Category: Writings
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Late Stage Quarantine
At one point, I discovered that I could crawl out of a window and onto the top of my house. Standing there in a slight breeze, I felt a simulated sense of what it’s like to summit a mountain.
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A Frozen Moment
I tried to place a screw in thick ice covered by a layer of slush. The screw wouldn’t go in. I tried a second screw. And this is how I simultaneously clogged and eliminated two screws from my rack. When I realized that I wasn’t going to get a screw where I wanted one, I…
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The Picket Range
“Because of the rugged terrain, the Picket Range has remained the wildest and most unexplored region in the North Cascades. It is not an area for the wilderness novice; its isolated bushy valleys and jagged ridges are a test for the most seasoned mountaineers. The length of climbs, combined with steep mixed terrain and variable…
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Gusher
You could say I’m exuberant when I get to talk about climbing. And you’d be right. This weekend, I basically exploded my love of climbing and eagerness to pursue guiding all over a colleague at Mountain Madness. My social-awareness filter tried to flicker on a few times during that conversation, but my enormous stoke overpowered…
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Awakening
In my mind, I stand at a stony precipice looking down into inky blackness. Above me, the stars shine brightly, beautifully. All is quiet and well up there. I feel a gurgling inertia in my chest. I wish to slip into the darkness, sound into sleep, but the untamed faucet of my thoughts pounds my…
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Just Say Yes
Recently, I learned what it feels like to be emotionally, interpersonally and spiritually malnourished. The feeling developed over the course of a year in which I failed to connect, I stopped feeling inspired and I felt like I had stopped growing. My ambitions toppled over. My opportunities felt like they’d dried up. My heart felt…
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Beckey Tattoo
Fred Beckey wouldn’t post a picture of himself to the internet. But I’m not Fred Beckey. I’m just a fangirl.
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Self Portrait
I could paint, but the colors would be wrong and the strokes splotchy. I could draw, but my hand is clumsy and my focus is imbalanced. I fixate too closely on small details and often lose sight of the broader picture, which isn’t exclusive to my artistic endeavors. So I write. I trust that I…
mallorie estenson 